


The Summer of Winter in Hell's Kitchen

by tracy7307



Series: Depth of Winter, Invincible Summer [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Daredevil (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-23
Updated: 2015-07-23
Packaged: 2018-04-10 19:06:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4403681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tracy7307/pseuds/tracy7307
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A stranger in an alley needs help, and Matt never did like bullies. Matt takes him in and gives him the care and comfort that he needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Summer of Winter in Hell's Kitchen

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to venivincere and isisanubis for their hand-holding and encouragement.

Matt fondled the label of his beer bottle as a strong breeze rushed through Josie's door. He welcomed the sensation of the wind on his face. Hell's Kitchen had been cooking in the summer heat this past week, days that were bright and hot and full of mischief. 

Somewhere underneath Karen and Foggy's laughter he heard the shuffle of boots entering the bar. Their owner walked to the far end and settled in a corner booth. 

"What'll it be?" Josie yelled over her shoulder as she wiped the counter. Her pulse picked up and small blood vessels widened beneath the skin of her face; she was blushing. Must be a handsome stranger.

"Pint of Guinness." Strange accent. American, but maybe a Slavic twist around the vowels. Longer hair brushed against the collar of the man's heavy jacket - _an odd choice for the middle of summer_ , Matt thought. The words sounded as if they made their way around the brim of a baseball cap, the man ducking his head as he spoke. 

A barrage of smells came forth as Matt inhaled: the leather of the jacket, oil, sweat, and metal. He could taste copper filtering through the air. This guy was bleeding somewhere. 

"Here ya go, honey," Josie said as she set the beer down carefully in front of the stranger, a coaster softening the thump of the pint glass on wood. 

And then Matt heard an odd metallic whirring; no, not whirring - it had to be small metal plates clicking together, the sound muffled under leather. He focused back on Foggy and Karen, neither of whom seemed to have noticed the stranger. 

"So who's it gonna be, Matt? You or Karen?" Foggy asked, laughter edging his question. 

"Hm? Sorry, I missed the question." 

"Ground control to Major Tom." The ice in Foggy's glass tinked as he tilted it toward Matt. "I saw Steve Rogers at Urban Market yesterday, and we clearly made eye contact. I think he wants me to have his babies. I mean he really had that baby-making look in his eyes when he saw me. So my question is, who wants to throw the baby shower - you or Karen?" 

At the mention of Steve Rogers, the man's pulse began racing, thumping so hard and fast that it sounded like drumming in Matt's ears. He shifted in the booth, his body tense. Matt smiled and played along with Foggy as he heard the mechanical clicking of the stranger's arm. "I don't think you're Captain America's type, Foggy." 

"Excuse me. I resent that. I am a catch in anyone's book. I mean, I speak Punjabi. I have _game_. Just because you can land any man or woman you set your blind little heart on does not mean the rest of us are unworthy. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a shower to plan. Shall we, Karen?" 

"See you later, Matt," Karen said with an exasperated laugh. 

After they left, the stranger's heartbeat gradually returned to a steady thrum. He exhaled with the scent of roasty stout on his breath. 

Matt's mind raced with questions: Who is this man? Is he seeking vengeance for the Russians? How did he obtain the injuries? Is he scoping Matt out? Is he on Fisk’s payroll? 

"Can I get you another, sweetpea?" Josie asked Matt. 

"No thanks, Josie." He set a ten on the table. Distrust curled throughout his body. With the taste of copper heavy in the air decided he'd better suit up. 

Quickly.

~*~

Crouched on the rooftop and clad in all black, Matt listened carefully to the night. Three blocks away, a man was receiving a blowjob in an alley. A block to the east, a man with a gravelly voice was asking for spare change. A half mile south, a taxi driver shouted at a woman crossing the middle of the street. Suddenly he heard the blowjob man curse and zip back up, interrupted by a group of men moving threateningly past him toward their target. A chain fence rattled - they had backed someone into a corner.

Matt backed up and sprinted for the rooftop of the next building, bounding over the low walls like hurdles until he was on the building next to the alley. 

"Come quietly, Soldier," a voice hissed to the cornered man. Six heartbeats surrounded him. "Baron Zemo is not happy to have lost the asset." 

The metallic arm clicked and whirred. The man's heartbeat quickened and sweat began to bead on his forehead. His jaw clenched, teeth grinding loudly. Whatever this asset was, he was not pleased about the men confronting him. “Baron Zemo can suck my dick.” 

Matt heard an object sliding out from a utility belt - a small metal disk. A man near the back of the pack clutched it between gloved fingers. Though he couldn’t tell for certain what the object was, it seemed obvious that it would be used to neutralize the stranger’s metallic arm. 

Matt remembered the feeling of chain fence digging into his back when he was a child – being backed up by a group of bullies who took turns punching him and jeering _Daredevil… Daredevil…_ his dad’s boxing nickname. With the emotions of decades past fueling the fire in his veins, Matt made a decision and bounded lightly down the bars of opposing fire escapes, pulling his clubs the moment his feet touched the lowest level. He took down two men in the back of the group at once with blows to the head, caught unaware of the threat looming above. The disk skittered under the dumpster. 

The stranger grabbed the nearest man's wrist with one hand and flipped him onto his back, still holding the wrist while he kicked his head. Another threat jumped on the stranger’s back but was knocked off by a metallic punch to the face and fell with a heavy thud to the concrete. Matt found that this momentary distraction allowed a hulking man to lunge towards him. 

Matt staggered back after the big man swiped at him with a knife that sliced through his shirt, cutting open the skin of his ribcage. He took several steps back and leapt into the air, spinning and landing a kick to the man’s temple. The man crumpled to the ground. Matt grasped his side, holding his wound and listening as the stranger dealt with the last threat. Crouching low, the stranger swiped his opponent’s feet out from under him with his leg and punched him with a vicious metallic hit to the head. 

Matt wasn’t sure what to do or say. He stood mute as warm blood started to soak through his shirt, waiting for the stranger to acknowledge him. 

The man stood up, breathing heavily. Matt could feel the stranger sizing him up, gaze focused on his wounds, over his stature, gauging his worth. Several uncomfortable moments ticked by. 

The taste of copper flowed in the air again, though it was not his own blood he was sensing. It grew stronger with every huff of the man’s breath. 

“Your nose is broken,” Matt said. The statement hung between them, an invitation to say something – anything. “I could help you with it if you-”

The stranger bounded down the alley, his footsteps a staccato of mystery that Matt soon wouldn’t forget.

~*~

Matt grimaced as he peeled off his shirt and discarded it on the living room floor. After he had entered the apartment through the roof access, he found that he only had enough energy to grab a towel and flop on the couch on his good side. He pressed the towel to the wound. He had walked away from fights much worse off than this, but it still was going to require more attention.

Time to address the visitor at the window. 

“If you’re gonna watch, you could at least lend a hand.” 

The stranger started. 

Matt rose with a groan, pressing the towel hard against his wound. He unlatched the window and tugged up on the stubborn frame. “Come in.” 

The stranger didn’t budge, but he radiated confusion with drawn brows and tilted head. “But how did you… I thought…” 

“That I’m blind and had no idea you were watching me? Well, you’re right on the first count. Now come in and let’s clean up. I’m exhausted and want some sleep.” Without waiting for a response, Matt shuffled into the kitchen and pulled the suture kit from the top drawer. As he grabbed a cold pack from the freezer, the stranger stepped into the apartment and pulled the window closed. 

“Why did you follow me?” Matt asked. He wet a towel under the sink and took everything to the living room, sitting opposite his guest. 

The stranger took the towel and began wiping blood from his face. “Why did you help me?” 

Matt smiled, opening the kit. “I heard six guys ganging up on one. I guess I just don’t like bullies.” 

The stranger huffed a laugh and placed the cold pack on his nose. 

“That’s funny?” Matt ripped open a suture and needle packet, pinching the skin closed and he prepared to make the first stitch. 

“Just reminds me of someone I know.” 

Matt sucked in a breath as he stitched his skin together. “Where was that someone tonight?” 

Several uncomfortable beats of silence passed. The stranger’s head sunk fractionally. His heart rate picked up. His fist clenched tightly then unclenched, hanging limp at his side. Matt could taste the salt in the air – tears welled in the corner of the stranger’s eyes. Anger. Frustration. Sadness. Dejection. “Let me help you with that,” the stranger said in a broken voice. 

He moved to the floor, kneeling by Matt’s legs and taking the suture from Matt’s fingers. Carefully he began stitching, his breath evening and heart beating steady and evenly as he focused on his task. It hurt like hell but it seemed to center the stranger, so Matt bit off his exclamations as best he could. After four more stitches he tied off and placed a pad over the wound, taping it down. 

“Thanks,” Matt said. The man at his knees nodded; _he must have figured out that I can tell_ , Matt thought. 

The man sat back on the floor, looking up. “So how is it that you can do all of this if you can’t see?” 

Matt smiled down. “Long story.”

The stranger tilted his head. “I have time.” 

“I’m Matt, by the way.” 

The man paused for a moment, fidgeted nervously with his jacket zipper, and took a deep breath. “James.” His heart beat steady and strong. That one piece of information seemed to be all he’d get out of James. Everything about him was closed off. All the signs of physical and emotional trauma were in place, but Matt wasn’t going to push him to talk about it. 

Hours later, the sun rose, filtering down through Matt’s large windows. Its warmth made him even sleepier. His throat was parched from talking into the small hours of the night, telling stories of bullies and boxing, of chemicals and pain, of blindness and training, and of nuns and grief, all while rats skittered through the allies and dark deeds happened in the dark corners of Hell’s Kitchen. He felt comfortable divulging all this to James; he knew that his secrets were safe. 

James had finally fallen asleep on the floor somewhere around five in the morning, sleep seeming to be the only thing that halted his questions. Matt placed a blanket over him before lying down on the couch, exhaustion creeping over him and pulling him down into a deep slumber.

~*~

Two hours later, Matt dragged his sleep-deprived body into the shower. Hopefully Foggy wasn’t expecting too much out of him at work today; maybe he could catch a nap behind his glasses if it was a slow day. As he toweled dry, he caught the smell of freshly brewed coffee. The smell alone made him feel less tired – James must have figured out his percolator and made it strong, just the way Matt liked it. He wrapped the towel around his waist and made a beeline for the kitchen.

“Thought you might need this,” James said, pouring a cup for Matt. “After that long night.” 

“Thanks,” Matt said with a smile. He took a sip of it, gloriously black and strong. Suddenly he heard James’s pulse pick up when he turned toward Matt. James began toying with the handle of his mug, face flushing. Matt could tell by the set of his neck muscles that he was desperately trying not to look down over Matt’s body – he probably knew Matt would be able to tell – but he failed anyway, gaze wandering down over his chest and lingering around his abdomen. Matt could feel the heat radiating from James’s face.

“So I’ll be at work until four, unless I can get away sooner,” Matt stated, trying to diffuse James’s embarrassment. “There’s plenty of food in the fridge and pantry. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen and make yourself at home. There’s a set of extra towels in the bathroom.” He started walking back toward the bedroom and paused. “I’ll leave my cell number next to the phone.” He nodded to the phone on the counter. “Call if you need me. And, James?”

“Yeah?” 

“You can stay here as long as you’d like. I know that you need to lay low. I just ask one thing.” 

James’s fingers curled around the countertop. “What’s that?”

“I need you to keep my identity a secret.” 

James huffed a small laugh. “Understood.”

~*~

Matt’s prediction was true – the day was agonizingly slow. Instead of listening to clients, though, Matt was subjected to Foggy’s prattling. Foggy sat on the other side of the table outlining all the reasons why they shouldn’t take the Rodriguez case while Matt mindlessly argued back, knowing full well that Rodriguez was innocent and that he could easily get a verdict in their favor.

All Matt could think about, though, was James’s reaction to Matt wearing nothing but a towel. He imagined that James didn’t hold back the desire, that he wasn’t impeded by embarrassment, that instead he boldly stepped closer, curled his fingers around the towel, fingers brushing against the hair on Matt’s belly before tugging the towel off-

“Matt!” Foggy shouted. “Hellooo! Do. You. Hear. The. Words. Coming. Out. Of. My. Mouth!” 

“Sorry,” Matt shook the daydream away. “Didn’t get much sleep last night. What were you saying?” 

“I said fine. We’ll take Rodriguez under the condition that you buy me a round at Josie’s on Friday. And what is going on with you lately? Karen and I never seem to be able to get ahold of you, you daydream all the time, you weren’t home in the middle of the night when we were banging on your door, you have random cuts and bruises and you look pasty.”

“Pasty? Did you just say I look pasty?” 

“Yes. You need more vegetables. And more sun. Are you a vampire? Is that what’s going on? You’re a vampire and if you spend too much time with Karen and me you’ll have to turn us as well? Are you going to sparkle if you step into the sun?” 

Matt smiled. Leave it to Foggy to turn his second life into a _Twilight_ drama. “No, Foggy. I’m not a vampire. I’m perfectly fine. I just need a bit more rest tonight.” 

“You should take the rest of the day off. Seriously. Go to Urban Market and get some kale. Make a kale salad, then go to sleep.”

“Is that your professional advice, Dr. Foggy?” 

“Yes. It is.” Foggy packed up the papers back in the Rodriguez file and stood up. “I’ll go talk to Rodriguez today. Go home.” Foggy walked to the door and stopped. “And Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“If you see Steve Rogers at Urban Market, please tell him I like Annabelle for a girl and Tristan for a boy.” 

Matt laughed. “You got it.”

~*~

From the first floor, Matt could hear the long, deep breaths of James sleeping in his apartment. He felt the braille on his watch – 1:14p.m. Quietly he slipped inside and stored leafy greens in the fridge while James rested on the couch. He crept to his bedroom, discarding his suit along the way and was asleep almost as soon as he slid between the silk sheets.

Two hours later Matt went from dreaming of riding a sun-drenched sailboat to sitting bolt upright. In the living room, James released a scream that sent Matt flying out of bed. Out of instinct he grabbed his clubs from the table by his bedroom door. 

When he stopped in front of the couch, though, only one heart beat in front of him, fast as a rabbit’s. With no threat present, Matt carefully put his clubs down. James started whimpering; Matt’s heart clenched. James began writhing a bit, his muscles tensing. Matt crouched next to him and gently touched James’s arm. 

In the next moment he found himself knocked down to the floor with James sitting on top of him, metal fist cocked back. Matt held his hands up, fingers splayed. “Whoa, James take it easy. It’s just me. It’s just Matt.” 

Gradually the nightmare world lifted from James’s shoulders. His muscles relaxed a bit, his stance softened, his breathing evened out. James slowly lowered his fist and slid back onto the couch, head lowered and held between his hands.

Matt tasted the salt of his tears. 

“I’m sorry.” James choked out the words from between his hands. “I should never have involved you in my bullshit. I’m sor-”

“Hey.” Matt rose to his knees in front of James and placed a hand on his arm. “I am the one who _chose_ to be involved in your bullshit. I saw a man who needed help.” With bated breath, he brushed the metal of the other arm with his fingertips. “So that’s what I did.” 

The metal was smooth and cool under Matt’s fingers. He could hear James’s throat muscles straining from the effort of withholding emotion. “It’s okay, James.” He grew bolder and slid his hands around both forearms, metal and flesh. “I kind of understood that you’d come with baggage. I mean, I found you being attacked by six men. I wouldn’t have offered to let you stay if I didn’t mind everything that comes with that.” 

With that, James began crying in earnest. Matt reached behind James’s neck with one hand and pulled him forward, pressing their foreheads together. They stayed like that for several moments while James released soul-racking sobs, shoulders shaking with catharsis. Matt slid his hand from the back of James’s neck so that he was cupping his face and wiped away tears with his thumb. 

“I want you to know.” James said through a hiccup and covered Matt’s hand with his metal one. “I need you to know who I am. What I’ve done. You deserve that.”

“Okay.” Matt pulled back a bit and nodded. “Tell me anything you’d like.” 

Matt’s stomach took that opportunity to make itself known with the world’s most embarrassing growl. “Maybe after we order some Thai?”

At least it diffused the intensity of the moment as James was smiling. “Sounds good.” 

Twenty minutes later with foam containers and chopsticks in hand, Matt settled in and listened as James began to tell how this all started. 

He wasn’t expecting it to start in 1930s Brooklyn.

~*~

“So what you’re telling me is that you’re James Buchanan Barnes?” Matt asked after James nervously confessed his true identity.

James nodded while lifting the last of his Pad Thai to his mouth.

“Steve Rogers’ right hand? Bucky Barnes?” 

James flinched. “Please don’t call me that. At all.” 

Matt nodded. His cell phone began chirping _Karen. Karen. Karen._ He slid the call to voice mail and patiently waited for James to continue. 

“I’m sorry,” Matt said. “I hope I didn’t offend you.” 

“No, it’s fine.” James said, putting down the carton. “I just don’t really identify as Bucky anymore. I’m not _him_.” 

“Mind if I ask what happened?” 

James sighed deeply and sat back against the couch. “I’m not sure how much you know about my former self, but I was a part of Steve’s Howling Commandos during the war.” 

“Right. You fought the Nazis with him and died falling from a train. Or so I thought.”

“Well, Bucky Barnes died in that ravine. When the Soviets pulled me out, I was someone different.” James looked down at his left arm and flexed his hand. “The Soviets handed me over to HYDRA, and they gave me _this_.” James held aloft his metal arm. The scales clicked and whirred downward. 

“HYDRA – that’s the organization that Steve Rogers just revealed?” 

“They’re like a parasite growing fat on the blood their host. They were everywhere. I only survived the fall from the train because of whatever experiments they performed on me when I was a P.O.W. After they gained control of me, they brainwashed me. Turned me into their _fist_.” Bitter sarcasm twisted the last word. 

“You were their enforcer.” 

James nodded and looked toward the window. After several moments he asked, “What year is this again?” 

“2015.” Matt hoped his shock did not appear in his response. 

James huffed an unamused laugh. “I’ve been on and off of ice for the last seventy years, following orders like a robot.” His voice became strained with emotion. “I’ve done horrible things. Assassinations. I’ve killed rulers, scientists, political activists who dared to speak out. I was responsible for Howard and Maria Stark’s deaths. I’ve made people disappear.” 

Tears began streaming down James’s cheeks. “The worst part is that every so often, they’d reset me. I have these ghosts of memories that haunt me while I’m awake and terrors that haunt me while I sleep. I can’t even remember everything I’ve done.” His breath hitched on the last sentence. 

Matt slid next to James on the couch and wrapped an arm around James’s shoulders. 

James’s head dropped and he allowed Matt to pull him closer. “My actions have caused grief and pain. I’ve killed sons in front of their mothers. I’ve killed old women. I’ve caused wars. Ruined nations. And I don’t even _remember everything_.” 

When James began sobbing in earnest, Matt pulled him against his chest. James’s face dropped to Matt’s shoulder, his back shaking with each sob. “What have I done?” His voice was muffled. Tears began to soak the cloth of Matt’s shirt. “What have I done?” James repeated. 

Matt tightened the embrace. “That wasn’t really you.” He rubbed James’s back in small, light circles. “HYDRA did all that. Everything you named, all of those things you’re grieving for are things that are on HYDRA’s hands. Not yours.” 

Time crept by as Matt held James, allowing him to process seventy years’ worth of grief. His face was warm with tears and expanded blood vessels in his eyes, nose and cheeks. His hands clutched tightly at the back of Matt’s shirt. Gently Matt laid his head on James’s shoulder and closed his eyes. He imagined the intense pain James must be feeling – it was written in every cell of his body. Tears slid down from Matt’s eyes. 

James began to pull back, his cheeks still damp. He stopped when his mouth was next to Matt’s and his heart began pumping faster. Their faces were a fraction apart. James’s breath fanned across Matt’s skin, hot and insistent. James put his hands on Matt’s and brought them to his face. 

Slowly Matt’s fingers traced the sharp cheekbones, over his stubbled cheeks, up to his forehead and over his eyebrows. James’s eyes slid shut and Matt touched his eyelids softly. His fingers ran down the bridge of James’s nose and over the soft divot underneath. He touched James’s lips, felt the swell of the bottom lip and began tracing along the curve. James hummed. 

Three sharp knocks at his door made Matt jump out of his skin. It was not often that someone could sneak up on him like that, but James had provided the distraction. The perfume from the other side told him it was Karen. And she was tapping her toe, a rapid click of her high heel on the concrete. Shit. That is _never_ a good sign. 

“I’m sorry,” Matt said, running his hands down James’s arms. “I’m sorry. It’s my coworker – my friend Karen. Don’t move. Not a muscle. Or a metal.”

James smiled at that. 

Matt got up and scurried for the door, cracking it only three inches. 

“Matthew Michael Murdock,” she said sternly. _Shit_ , Matt thought. _I’m in big-time trouble._

“You don’t answer your phone. You’re hardly in the office anymore.” She barged past him and began storming down the hallway. “And Foggy insists that it’s okay, but _I_ think that it was really shitty of you to stick him with Rodrigue-”

She stopped when she saw James on the couch. “Oh.” Embarrassment flowed through her body. “I’m so sorry, Matt. Didn’t realize you had company.”

“It’s okay.” Matt walked behind her and stood in the space between her and James. “Karen this is-”

“Hi, I’m Karen,” she interrupted, walking to the couch with hand extended. 

“James.” He returned her handshake, ducking his head to hide his red eyes. During the time she began walking down the hall, James had shrugged on his jacket to hide his arm.

“Nice to meet you. I didn’t mean to interrupt.” She began backing up and Matt started walking her toward the door. “James please feel free to stop by our office any time. We have really great tea,” she declared over Matt’s shoulder as he walked her along. 

“Thanks,” James shouted back. “I will.”

As she entered the hall she turned to Matt and leaned over. “Nice!” she whispered. “He’s super hot!” 

Matt smiled and began shutting the door. “Goodbye, Karen.” 

“Don’t forget to bring him to the office!” She said as he closed the door.

~*~

Four days later, James was buried head-first in Matt’s refrigerator. “Matt?”

“Yeah?” He answered, letting his fingers take a rest from the braille display of the case file. 

“What the hell is this?” James had extracted himself and held up the bunch of kale. “Big green leafy things?” 

“ _That_ is Foggy’s fault. It’s kale. He insisted that I needed more vitamins or something. Thought I was becoming a vampire.” 

James ripped a piece off and ate it. “Huh. Tastes bitter. And kind of like dirt.” 

“Most super-healthy food does.” Matt shifted in the chair. He’d devoted the last several days to the case in order to make up for the sins of neglecting Foggy and Karen and felt every second of it cramping up in his under-utilized muscles. He went from sitting in the office for hours on end to sitting at home until bedtime. His body ached for action. 

James seemed to be feeling the same way. Introducing him to the internet and Candy Crush certainly helped him pass the time, but the way he walked around the apartment that evening resembled a caged panther.

Matt stood, lifted his arms high in the air and stretched. “Hey. Wanna get out of here? Get some exercise?” 

James put the kale back in the fridge. “God yes. I’m not saying that I don’t like your place, I do, but-”

“I get it. I feel the same way. Fogwell’s Gym is just around the corner. I think we could both use some time there. In the second drawer of my dresser I have extra sweats and a hoodie you can wear.” 

“Thanks.” 

James shrugged off his clothes and pulled on Matt’s without closing the door. Any normal friend might not think to do so because of his blindness; even Karen had gone topless in front of him the day after he met her, but James knew about Matt’s other sharpened senses. Maybe he truly didn’t realize that Matt could hear James’s muscles flexing as he moved, fabric sliding over taut skin, elastic settling around slender hips and shirt stretching over wide shoulders. 

Every morning James emerged from the shower damp and smelling like Matt’s body wash. Every day he did an indoor workout routine consisting of shirtless crunches, pull-ups from the beam, and push-ups. Three nights ago, Matt spent half the night next to the couch after one of James’s night terrors. The night before, James gently shook Matt at three in the morning and asked if he could sleep in Matt’s bed with him, his face still damp with tears. Matt woke in the morning with James wrapped around his back. Last night on his way to bed, Matt simply looked back over his shoulder and said, “If you want, you can stay in here with me tonight.”

Matt meditated several times a day for self-control. 

“Ready?” James asked as he bounded from Matt’s room, pulling on Matt’s hoodie. 

“Yep. Let’s go.” 

James started to walk down the hall. 

“Hey,” Matt said and moved toward the stairs to the roof outlet. “I was thinking we’d go a different way. Walking down the street is just so _boring_.” 

A wide grin broke over James’s face. “Hell yes.”

~*~

Complete exhilaration. That’s what Matt felt as he jumped from roof to roof, James always a beat in front or a step behind. Together they skidded over gravel, tumbled over blacktop, and threw well-aimed pebbles at each other (Matt didn’t stand a chance in that battle).

Before long they were at Fogwell’s. Matt unlocked the back door. It hadn’t changed much over the decades, still smelling heavily of sawdust and old sweat. Matt remembered standing in this very spot at eight years old, pummeling the bag with all his might as the bullies’ chants of _Daredevil… Daredevil…_ ran through his head, releasing all his anger through his tiny fists. 

“So this is where your dad trained?” asked James. Matt shook away the ghosts of the past. 

“Yeah. I come after they close to get in some training. I paid the manager a lump sum and he gave me a key so I could stop by at night. Can’t have people watching me.” 

“But I’m watching you.” 

“Well, that’s different. You know about everything.” Matt nodded toward the ring. “Wanna go?” 

“You serious?” James asked with a smile. 

“Wouldn’t have asked if I wasn’t. Come on. I can take it.” Matt climbed up between the ropes, pulled on headgear and strapped on a pair of gloves. 

A shrill of metal made Matt think maybe he shouldn’t have opened his mouth. 

“Alright.” James geared up, though he kept a careful distance. “Is this even right? I mean, isn’t there a special place in hell for guys who hit blind guys?”

“Yep. It’s right next to the guys who hit old men.” Matt ducked the punch that came his way and hit James with a quick jab to the body. 

James laughed and let him have it. He didn’t treat Matt like a flower, which Matt appreciated, but also was reserved with the metal arm, which he also appreciated. They continued the give and take, meeting each other’s rhythm. Matt’s body on fire with the joy of the physical exertion. James met him step for step, throw for throw, seemingly just as happy with the workout. 

After they finished, they walked out the back entrance, Matt locking up behind them. The alley was quiet save for the rustling of a plastic bag in the breeze and a cat meowing at them from behind a dumpster. “Hey.” James said to Matt’s back. Matt turned. “I just wanted to thank you for everything you’ve done for me.” 

James’s heart beat strong and steady. He started fidgeting with the strings on the hoodie. “I don’t even really know who I am anymore, and you took a chance on helping me. I could’ve hurt you. If I’d have still been in HYDRA’s hands, no doubt I would have. You’re even risking your safety being in public with me this very moment. So, thank you.”

James’s pulse started to pick up and his palms began sweating. His gaze wandered over Matt’s body – over his arms, his face, his chest, his abdomen, down to his groin and back up to his face. This was not an unfamiliar sensation. Many people took for granted that Matt would be able to tell when he was being checked out. He was well aware of his attractiveness and had taken a fair number of men and women to his bed.

This was different, though. If he was being honest with himself, his desire for James scared him as much as the day those chemicals had taken his vision. This was exactly why Stick had ditched their training; he thought Matt was too emotional. That he lacked discipline. He’d opened himself like a book to James – formed intimacy that couldn’t be broken. 

James’s pupils dilated. Attraction. 

To hell with Stick. 

Matt stepped forward twice, reached for the back of James’s neck, and pulled him into a kiss. James responded immediately with a hum and kissed back, closing his eyes and gripping Matt’s waist. It wouldn’t go down as the world’s most elegant kiss; it was awkward, the angle was a bit off and everything was a bit too frantic. The alley provided little in the way of romantic ambiance with the stench of dumpster next to them, trash skittering around their ankles and the faint smell of urine. Matt could tell that it had been quite some time since James had kissed anyone, but the bulge in James’s pants indicated that he was certainly enjoying it. 

Matt pulled back a bit and went in for a softer kiss, setting a slower, more precise rhythm. He changed the tilt of his head, enjoying the feeling of James’s breath on his cheek. The overhead light flickered above them and the cat ran off to chase a mouse down the alley as Matt pulled away. There were many factors that could complicate this, and he wanted to give James the chance to bow out in case he changed his mind. 

James did not seem to be on board with that theory as he reached out for Matt’s face, traced the curve of his jaw, and leaned in, touching his lips to Matt’s slowly and sweetly. 

Matt suddenly pulled away on high alert. 

“Shit,” James stepped back. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“Yes, you should have, make no mistake. I wanted it. Still want it. But you might want to know we’ll soon have company.” 

The metal whirred immediately in response. “HYDRA? How many?”

Matt shook his head. “Steve Rogers.” 

James’s heart kicked into overdrive and panic tensed his body. “How do you know?”

“Because I can taste the vibranium getting closer.”

~*~

Steve Rogers smelled of sweat, Kevlar and three men’s blood – not that any of that was really surprising to Matt. What took him aback was the faint scent of obscenely expensive French cologne. It wasn’t strong enough to suggest that Steve had applied it himself, though – it had to have rubbed off from someone else. Someone wealthy who often spent time in close quarters with Captain America? One person came to mind, but Matt kept that one to himself.

Steve walked up to James and without a word pulled him into a tight hug. James wrapped his arms around Steve’s back. After a minute, Steve began to weep quietly. Together they grieved the decades of lost friendship. They didn’t speak, but the intimacy of their embrace said everything that needed to be said. 

Matt pulled on his sunglasses while Steve and James were occupied. He felt a bit intrusive on this moment.

Eventually Steve pulled back and glanced back toward Matt. “Who’s your friend?” 

“This is Matt Murdock,” James said, flushing a bit. Steve extended his hand and Matt feigned groping for it momentarily before finding and shaking it. “I’ve been staying with him for the last week. We can trust him. He knows everything.” 

“Matt,” Steve said a bit too tightly. He wasn’t convinced yet. 

“Nice to meet you, Captain.” Matt pulled out and extended his cane. 

“Please, call me Steve.” 

“How did you find me?” James asked.

“Followed HYDRA’s trail. I figured we’d both be looking for the same person and noticed they’ve been spotted in Hell’s Kitchen several times. Thought it was worth a shot. I just took out a few of them two miles back. When I heard there was a boxing gym here, I just had a gut feeling. And here you are.” 

“Steve, I don’t think you should have come here. You don’t need to fight my battle. You have plenty of other things on your hands.” 

“Bucky-”

“Don’t call me that.” 

Steve stepped closer and put a hand on James’s shoulder. “That’s who you are, Buck. That’s who you’ll always be to me.” 

“It’s now who I am now, though. Bucky died when he fell from that train. Please, Steve. Just call me James.” 

Matt heard Steve’s jaw muscle flex and his teeth grind slightly. “Fine. James. I can live with that. But I’m not giving up on you just because you tell me to.” 

James smiled a bit. “Since when have you ever listened to anything I’ve said?” 

Steve laughed. “Like the kids say today – I do what I want!” 

James pulled Steve back into a hug. He said quietly, “Just as much of a punk today as you were in 1945.” 

“I meant what I said, James.” Steve tried whispering, but Matt still heard it. “I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.” 

“I guess it’s my own fault that I’m stuck with you. Saved your ass one too many times in Brooklyn alleys, I think. Seems like I can’t shake you, Rogers. But you should know that Matt can hear what we’re saying.” James released Steve and turned toward Matt. “Should we just tell him everything?” 

“Yeah. I think he should know, but the three of us need to have a talk. Steve, care to follow us back to my place?” Matt pulled off his glasses and chucked his cane into the depths of the alley. 

Without waiting for an answer, Matt bounded up the opposing fire escapes to the gym’s roof, backed up, performed a spinning leap onto the next roof, and landed in a perfect Iron Man pose (an homage to the possible source of that French cologne). Sure, it might have been ostentatious, but the fact that he just left Captain America with mouth agape made it all worth it. He smiled, somersaulted over a short chimney stack and jumped to the next roof.

~*~

Steve Rogers stood at Matt’s kitchen counter with his uniform jacket splayed in front of him. He paused from wiping the blood away to take another swig of beer from the bottle. “How much do you remember?” he asked James.

“More comes back to me every day. I’m filling in the gaps, especially from the time before I fell. Did you realize they have an entire shrine to you at the Smithsonian?” James teased. 

Steve threw a wadded-up paper towel at James’s head, laughing. “Hey, you have your own display, so quit your griping.” 

“I’m not griping at all,” James threw the towel back. “In all sincerity, it did help me gain back a lot of what I’d lost.” James paused for a moment, sadness pulling down on his features. “The rest comes back to me in nightmares.” 

Sitting next to James on the couch, Matt placed a reassuring hand on James’s back; James leaned into the touch. Steve stopped wiping his jacket and watched quietly. Matt listened to Steve’s heartbeat, smelled for sweat, listened for clenched muscles – anything that might indicate dislike. Steve’s heart continued steadily. Matt began rubbing small circles and James exhaled deeply, his eyes sliding shut. With his heart still beating along steadily, Steve began wiping again. 

“We need to get you established in the present, James,” Steve said as he held up his jacket, inspected it, and slid it back on. “We need to prove your identity and get your name cleared.” 

“I can help with that,” Matt said. “I can get his social security re-established, vet benefits, health care, pension, housing – as it stands, he’d be America’s longest-serving prisoner of war.” 

James turned to face Matt. “If the government figured out who I was and what I’d done, they’d build a special cell just for me and throw away the key.” 

Steve walked into the living room and sat opposite James and Matt. “Not with me to corroborate. With Matt arguing your defense and me at your side, you’d be just fine.” 

James looked at his friend for a silent moment. “It’ll draw out Zemo. All of HYDRA will destroy Hell’s Kitchen.” 

“Can’t be worse than an army of aliens falling from the sky,” Matt said. 

“That it can’t,” Steve agreed. “Plus, you’ll have the Avengers at your back.” 

“Not all of them.” James took a deep breath. “I killed Howard and Maria Stark.” 

“That wasn’t you, though,” Steve said immediately. “Don’t worry about Tony. I’ve already talked to him. He knows what you’ve been through.” 

“I’ve shot Romanoff. Twice.” 

“Nat already knows what they’ve done to you. She understands mind manipulation. Hell, her best friend was under the control of a deranged alien.” A quiet moment passed. “James, look at me.”

James looked up.

Steve leaned forward and said authoritatively, “You will be fine. We will make it through this together, and you’ll be cleared of anything that’s thrown at you. If HYDRA comes, so be it. Not like we haven’t handed their asses to them before.” 

James laughed. “Some things never change. Here we are seventy years later and who are we fighting? Baron Zemo and HYDRA.”

“And now that you’re back, I have no doubt we’ll do it all over again. They gave you that arm not knowing you’d use it against them. You can make it right. They used you and you have the opportunity to stop them. Maybe the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen wouldn’t mind helping.” 

Matt smiled. “I already started a week ago. Why would I stop now?” 

“I’m starting to like you, Matt,” Steve said. “Since you can hear everything I’m gonna say anyway, I’ll just put it all out there. James, I need to know that you are safe and happy here.”

James wound his hand around Matt’s. “Very much.” Matt tried but failed to hide his smile. He felt his cheeks flaming. _Great_ , he thought, _blushing like a damn schoolgirl in front of Captain America._

“Because if you want, you can always come back to Avengers Tower. HYDRA wouldn’t be looking for you there and you’d be well-protected.”

“I appreciate the gesture, Steve, but I’d like to stay where I am.”

“Fair enough.” Steve rose and snapped up his jacket. “I’ll send over some Stark tech for you tomorrow – phone, tablet, laptop – so that we can get in contact with you.” 

“I’ll start the plethora of forms tomorrow for James,” Matt said. He envisioned himself in the black mask with red tape winding around his body and squeezing the air out of him only to fight his way out. If only it were that easy. 

“Thank you, Matt.” Steve pulled his phone from a hidden pocket. They exchanged numbers, and Matt really wasn’t certain how he felt about having Steve Rogers in his contacts. “One more thing. I can see that you two are – involved, I guess.” 

Matt felt as embarrassed as he did on that day his dad had stammered his way through the birds and bees talk.

“If this is what you want, James, I’m more than happy for you. Matt seems like a really good guy.” 

James’s blood vessels burst under his cheeks, his face full of mortification. “Thanks,” was all he could muster up. 

“Walk with me to the door,” Steve said to Matt. As they walked down the hall, Steve said in a low voice, “If you hurt him, so help me god-”

“Never,” Matt interrupted. “He’s already been hurt enough.” 

Steve paused in front of the door. “This time before they gave me the serum, I wandered in this alley one night thinking I was going to confront a neighborhood bully who had been terrorizing people behind the – well, you’d call it a gay bar now. Instead I found Bucky kissing another man with his hand down the guy’s pants. The guy ran off and zipped up before he hit the street. Bucky and I never talked about it again, but I tried to let him know in other ways that I was fine with it. I don’t care. He was my best friend. Still is.” 

“I want to help him, Steve. I care for him.” 

Matt could feel happiness rolling off of Steve – it was in the set of his shoulders, the smile on his lips, the way his hands fell loosely at this sides. He pulled Matt into a hug. “Be good to him. Call me if you need _anything_.” 

Steve released Matt and held up his forearm. His shield came flying up from the ground with a metallic song and attached to his forearm with a clink. 

As Steve walked out the door, Matt smiled as he imagined the national anthem playing as Steve’s exit music. 

Matt locked up, went to the living room and pulled James from the couch, kissing him as they fumbled toward the bedroom. Again he heard Stick’s voice from many years ago nagging in the back of his mind. _Undisciplined. Indulgent. Emotional._

That night he lay in bed with James’s head on his chest. For the first time in a week, there were no screams in the middle of the night - no terrors to rob them of sleep. There was only soft light from the electronic billboard outside throwing rectangles of light down on them. There was the dull patter of rain on the window. There was James’s hair between Matt’s fingers. And there were kisses shared between silk sheets. 

Matt felt undisciplined. He felt indulgent. He felt emotional. 

And he wasn’t sorry for it.

~*~

Matt woke to the sound of running water. The steam flowed from the bathroom, heavy with the smell and taste of James’s metal arm. With the thought of hours of paperwork ahead as well as Rodriguez’s trial, Matt rose from bed and started for the kitchen. By the time James emerged from the bathroom, Matt was scrambling eggs in one pan and frying bacon in the other.

James had pulled on an old, soft hoodie of Matt’s and a pair of his basketball shorts. He walked behind Matt and kissed his shoulder. “Mm. Eggs and bacon? A man after my heart.” 

“Big day today,” Matt said as he transferred the bacon to his cast iron skillet to drain. “Need to have a good breakfast.” 

James tilted up Matt’s chin and went in for a kiss, his left hand sneaking down to cup Matt’s ass. 

Matt gave in for a moment, then pushed James back. “If you keep that up, I won’t get one damn thing done.” 

James gave Matt’s ass a little smack and that really didn’t help matters, either. “Want me to come with you to the office today? Help you fill out some of that paperwork?” 

“Actually I _am_ going to need your help for that, but first I have court this morning. I’ll come by here when I’m done and bring you back.” He plated their eggs and bacon while James poured the coffee. When he sat down to eat, he got a thrill of intoxication from this domestic scenario. James wearing his clothes, eating breakfast with him before work – Matt knew that it probably wouldn’t remain like this, but this moment certainly felt right. Contentment washed over him. 

Matt stood to take the dishes to the sink. “Leave it,” James said. “Go get ready for work. I’ll do it while you’re gone.”

After showering and pulling on his suit, Matt headed for the door. “I don’t think this case will take long. I should be back in a few hours. If you need me, don’t hesitate to call. Okay?” 

“Got it.” James leaned in for a kiss. “See you later. Good luck in court.” 

Matt walked into the courtroom on top of the world. No prosecutor could possibly stand in his way today. He was right; the jury had returned their _not guilty_ verdict by twelve thirty. 

_Maybe we’ll even be able to file everything by the time these various offices close today,_ Matt thought as he walked back home. On the first floor, though, he noticed something odd. 

Panic caused him to jump up the handrails to his apartment; when he reached it, he threw open the door. His fear was confirmed. His furniture lay askew - tufts of stuffing torn out, pieces of the hardwood floor were crunched in. 

No heartbeat in the apartment. No trace of James.

~*~

“Call Steve,” Matt said to his phone as he pulled on his black cargo pants.

After two rings Steve picked up. “In case you were wondering, his favorite restaurant is Monte’s in Brooklyn - if it’s still open, that is. The Google can tell you that.”

“He’s missing.” 

A silent moment passed. “I’ll be right there. Don’t move.” 

Matt pulled on his shirt, boots and mask and went to the living room. He touched the upturned chair and felt the stuffing protruding from a long slit – something that would’ve been made by James’s knife. The holes in the floorboards had traces of blood and were consistent with the shape of someone’s head. Matt felt the bottom of the coffee table lying on its side and his fingers traced the shape of two boot prints. The top reeked of the oil and sweat of two different men. James must have upended the table and kicked the men down with it. It certainly seemed that if they were trying to take James Barnes, he was going to give them hell. 

The way the area rug was gathered suggested movement toward the roof access. Matt felt the stairs as he followed the trail. The wood of several steps jutted upwards, smelling faintly of metal – of James’s fist. Out on the roof, Matt crouched down and opened his senses as widely as he could.

Voices laughed and fought; concrete slid down the chute of a mixer; garage doors rattled loudly; car horns blared as the city’s heart continued beating. Matt searched through the sounds, trying to find just the one voice that mattered. Gradually, all the sounds were drowned out by the roaring of an approaching aircraft engine. 

Matt had never heard an aircraft like this before, though. He stood back as it landed on the larger roof two buildings west. The hydraulics of a cargo door hissed as it lowered and then came unmistakable sounds of the vibranium shield, Iron Man’s suit and the Hulk’s grunting breaths. He caught the smell of a woman and a fifth heartbeat, then heard an arrow flying directly toward him. He barely had enough time to roll to the left and kick it out of the air. 

“Not bad,” said Hawkeye. “You weren’t lying about the heightened senses thing, Cap. I’m truly impressed. I wonder if he can hear my dick getting hard.” 

Black Widow smacked him upside his head. “Seriously, Clint.”

“C’mon, Nat! No need for such violence. I was just kidding. But seriously, though, I do wonder-”

Matt took that moment to run and leap across the two rooftops. 

“Got anything yet?” Steve asked as Matt stood in front of the Avengers. 

“He injured two, maybe three of them when they took him. Smashed up my stairs on the way out to show me the trail.” 

“That’s Bucky for you.” 

“James.”

“Right. It might take me some time to get used to that.” 

Matt turned to face the city again. “Give me another minute. I’ll try to find him.” 

He cast out again, focusing on voices. He cut through everyday conversations – children playing in the street, a drunk woman crying, a man complaining about his sandwich, before he caught a German accent. Matt turned his head toward the voice. “-have had enough of your insolence. You’ve served us well over the years, Soldier. My father spoke fondly of you. The way he described your good work for HYDRA was nothing less than poetic. It was almost as if you were another son.” The voice grew more menacing. “I suppose that makes you my brother. It’s time to remind you where your true loyalties lie.” 

“Found him. Follow me,” Matt said over his shoulder. He leapt over rooftops, moving closer toward the hissing voice. Iron Man grabbed Hawkeye and took to the air above, Black Widow jumped up and wrapped her arms around Hulk’s neck, and Steve was right on Matt’s heels. Once he reached the building next to a warehouse on the Hudson River, he stopped and the team assembled around him. 

“What’s the situation?” Steve stepped next to Matt and asked. 

Matt listened to what the building told him. “There are two guards south entrance. Fourteen soldiers are patrolling the perimeter inside and three are standing watch next to Zemo. They all have MP40 submachine guns. Zemo has James gagged or something. Sounds like he’s breathing around plastic. His wrists and legs are strapped down and he’s hooked on some sort of machine. No idea what it is. Zemo is not armed. There are two military transport vehicles on the west side of the building. Each has 13 soldiers, each with submachine guns.” Matt paused and smelled deeply. “There’s a grenade launchger on the first vehicle.” 

Hawkeye whistled long and low. “Is anyone else aroused right now?” 

“And yes, I can hear the increased blood flow to your penis,” Matt said with a smirk. 

“Damn, son. Can I buy you dinner or something?” 

“Sorry. I have a date and he’s tied up at the moment.”

Steve said, “Matt, tell us about the building. Can you tell if there are any holes in or out?” 

Matt listened to the building’s airflow. “There are roof hatches. If you can take one out, Steve, we could lower ourselves to the ceiling beams and then down from there. Sneaking in from above would work as long as there was a distraction.” 

Steve stepped forward and the group fell silent, awaiting instruction. “Hawkeye, I want you to take down those guards on the south entrance. Stay up here and wait for my command – any HYDRA soldiers that come out of that building are your responsibility. Tony, once you’re clear, move through the south entrance and start taking out the perimeter guards. _Keep Zemo distracted._ I mean it, Tony; make sure his attention stays on you. Widow, we’re gonna follow Matt’s lead through the roof, then drop down on Zemo and introduce ourselves. I haven’t met the son yet. It’s only polite. I knew his father, after all.” 

Hulk huffed angrily. Steve turned toward him. “Think you can handle those vehicles when the soldiers start piling out?” Hulk growled a low, pleased sound. “Wait until they move first, then you can take ‘em out, big guy.”

Hawkeye already had an arrow at the ready. “Hawkeye. Go,” Steve said. The arrow flew silently and took down one guard, followed almost immediately by the other. 

Steve, Black Widow and Matt descended the roof access stairs, crept out of their cover building and moved quietly across the concrete to the warehouse where James was being held. “There’s a roof-access ladder,” Steve whispered. Up they went, each one scaling the steps with ease. 

On the roof, Steve crouched next to the ventilation hatch and pulled the entire top half off as easily as if he was peeling an orange. 

Steve and Widow looked down into the warehouse. “There’s a beam running lengthwise directly below us. Leads up to where Zemo is holding Bucky.” Steve shook his head. “James.” Steve approached Matt and began buckling cords around his waist. “Widow and I already have rappelling gear built into our uniforms. You’re gonna need this.” 

Matt laid his hand on top of Steve’s. “I won’t need it. Trust me.” 

“This is not a risk you should take. I’m not saying that being blind is going to hinder you, but you could seriously injure yourself or even die if you slip from that beam. Better to be safe than sorry.”

Matt pulled the cord from his waist and handed it back. “It’s okay, Steve. I got this.” 

“Steve, just let the man do what he wants. He obviously knows his limits. Now, shall we, gentlemen?” She lowered herself from the frame of the hatch and landed on the beam with hardly a sound, even to Matt’s ears. 

Steve landed behind her and began stepping carefully along the beam. “Tony. Go.”

As Matt’s feet touched the beam, the south entrance door banged open and Iron Man flew inside. “Jesus Christ. HYDRA again? This group is as washed up as the contestants on _Celebrity Apprentice_. How boring.” 

A plethora of bullets sprayed his armor. In his most deadpan tone he said, “Please. Don’t. _Nein_. Oh god I can’t take it.” 

A latch opened on his armor and he pretended to sneeze as a score of small missiles launched from his shoulder. Fourteen men fell with a thud to the floor. Tony cooed, “Oh. Did I do that?” Matt recognized the catchphrase from some 80s sitcom but couldn’t recall which one. T.V. had never particularly been his thing growing up (unless one of Jack’s fights was being broadcast). 

Matt crept along with Steve and Widow, heading closer to where James was huffing heavily against the plastic in his mouth. His heart rate shot through the roof when seeing Tony. 

“How _dare_ you!” Zemo barked at Iron Man. “You overreach your capabilities, Man of Metal.” He looked at his three guards. “Destroy him!” 

As the three guards rushed forward, Matt heard Steve tap twice on the beam. Widow and Steve clipped their cords around the beam. Matt heard air flowing over a large metal container below him and hopped quietly from the beam to the container down to the concrete floor. The three of them landed at the same moment. 

Zemo stood focused on Iron Man, who used his palm repulsors to take out two of the guards. With a metal fist to the face, he knocked out the third. “Got anything else? Because really, if this is the best that HYDRA’s got, I’m shocked you made it this far.” 

While Iron Man maintained Zemo’s attention, Matt and Widow ran to James and began unfastening the restraints on his wrists and ankles. James touched Matt’s forearm – a small touch that read “I’m okay.” 

Iron Man’s face plate flipped open and he continued talking. “I mean, your organization has a history of shooting itself in the foot. First with that embarrassment with your father accidentally killing himself in an avalanche, then with your agent so easily selling out Zola’s algorithm. HYDRA is imploding everywhere. It’s like a damn accident on the highway and I just can’t stop gawking.”

Zemo’s fists clenched as he stared down Iron Man. Widow unfastened a metal halo-like contraption from around James’s head and Matt pulled the bite guard from his mouth. James stood, nodded to Widow and placed a hand on Matt’s shoulder, giving it a small squeeze.

From outside came machine gun fire followed by the unmistakable roar of the Hulk and multiple screams or horror as bodies flew through the air. Metal crunched as Hulk demolished the first vehicle by jumping on it and the second one by punching his fist through the passenger door, pulling out the grenade launcher and using it as a bat to knock the vehicle into the Hudson River. 

Iron Man took a step forward. “That’s not even the worst part, though. Your biggest weapon loathes you. You have to use mind control to force him to do your deeds. You might want to give your employees a satisfaction survey because number one doesn’t look too happy with his boss.” With James fully freed, Iron Man took that moment to glance back at them. “Look for yourself.” 

As Zemo spun around, James walked to stand next to Steve. “Captain America,” Zemo growled. “At last I meet the man who slew my father. I shall now inflict on you the pain you brought upon my family. Prepare to meet your end.” 

Steve huffed a small laugh. “Delusion must run in the family. Look around, Zemo. You have _no one_ left. Your ideals don’t fit in today’s world and certainly don’t belong in a free country.” Hawkeye and Hulk came in the back door and the group formed a loose circle around Zemo. “Give up now. Do the right thing and submit yourself for justice.” 

“Never!” Zemo shouted and lunged for Steve. Steve threw the shield, but it flew scarcely one foot before James nabbed it from the air and handed it back to Steve, staring down Zemo as he did so. Zemo stumbled back on his heels. Whatever look was on James’s face struck terror in Zemo’s body; James walked forward intently, not stopping even as his chest bumped Zemo’s. Zemo fell backwards and scrambled to his knees. 

“Have mercy, soldier.” Zemo pleaded. “Haven’t we always taken care of you?” James’s metal fist wrapped around Zemo’s throat. “We’ve always preserved you. We’ve always respected you. You’ve seen seven decades pass and have scarcely aged because of HYDRA.” Zemo’s fingers scrabbled at James’s hand. “Don’t do this! I command you!” James’s hand tightened and did not let go until the gurgling and kicking ceased. 

Tears streamed down James’s face as he threw Zemo’s limp body to the floor. Steve pulled James into a hug as the sobs began. “It’s over, James,” he said quietly and reached for Matt’s shoulder, pulling him into the embrace. Matt wrapped his arms around both of them and supported James from behind. “It’s over now. You can move on.” 

“I knew both of you would come,” James said with a quavering voice. “I knew you would be here.” 

“Of course we would.” Matt placed a hand on James’s back and rubbed circles. “You left me all the right clues.” 

“I told you, James,” Steve pulled back and looked his friend in the eyes. “I’m with you ‘til the end of the line.” With a smile, Steve walked away and left James in Matt’s arms. 

As their embrace lengthened, the team began to fall away one by one. Only Iron Man and Steve remained. “Come on baby,” Iron Man said to Steve. “Let’s go home.” 

“I’m glad he’s back,” Steve said. “Thank you for what you did today.” 

Iron Man wrapped an arm around Steve’s waist and Steve placed his feet on top of armored feet. “Anything for you.”

Matt thought he heard the sound of a kiss but couldn’t be sure over the sound of the repulsors flying them through the air.

~*~

Nighttime crept with cat’s feet to Hell’s Kitchen. In the stillness of Matt’s apartment, James sat at the kitchen table. Matt wiped the blood from the corner of James’s mouth and bandaged a cut on his temple. He didn’t push James to talk about what happened; instead he just sat quietly, comforting James in what small ways that he could – caring for his wounds, a gentle touch to the face, letting James’s knee rest against his own. They moved to the couch where James leaned back against Matt’s chest.

Matt thought that when James began to talk, he’d be full of stories of Zemo’s father and battles with Nazis, but James had something else on his mind. 

The small blood vessels in James’s cheeks expanded. He started to talk several times, retracted, and finally stammered, “I’ve always been attracted to both men and women.” 

Matt laced his fingers through James’s hair and felt James’s body relax a bit. He kept stroking as he waited for James to continue. 

“It was hardest before the war. I got beat up pretty regularly. If I did find a guy to have a quick one-off with, there was about a fifty-fifty chance that I’d get beat. People knew what kind of a bar Gloria’s was and would wait in the alley to catch guys trying to sneak together. Sometimes it was the police doing the beating, out to send a message.” Matt moved his fingers down and began rubbing James’s neck. “That’s why I didn’t do it often. I didn’t want to ruin my chances of enlisting. Didn’t want to ruin my reputation. Anything I ever did was done quickly and quietly. And shamefully.” 

Matt began rubbing his right shoulder, still massaging his neck with the other hand. James’s eyes slid closed. “That feels good.” 

“I’m sorry you had to face that.”

“There was another time. I was on a mission in the late 1970s, I believe. I ended up finding a bath house. The police raided it while I was there. Almost got busted with my hand on another man’s dick, but I escaped from a window.” 

“Jesus.” 

James began playing with the seam of Matt’s pants. “What I’m trying to tell you, Matt, is that there’s never really been a time in my memory that this has ever been acceptable. I was surprised at how nobody seemed to be bothered by us.” 

“It’s much easier these days. I can’t say it’s 100% or that you’ll never face homophobia. You will. But we’re getting there. There’s been a big shift in attitude in the last few years. Hell, the Supreme Court just ruled in favor of same-sex marriage last week.” 

James looked back over his shoulder. “You’re kidding me.”

“Nope. Couples of the same sex can legally marry in all fifty states.”

“Incredible.” 

Matt ran his fingers over James’s left shoulder, feeling where the scarred skin met the metal. He leaned forward to kiss James’s neck. 

James’s heartbeat picked up; Matt could feel the pulse beating strongly under his lips. “You don’t have to feel ashamed,” he said as he kissed up to James’s earlobe. 

“Mmm.” James turned to face Matt and traced a finger along his jaw. “I don’t think I could ever feel ashamed of this.” He leaned forward and placed his lips on Matt’s. 

Matt was careful and gentle in returning the kisses; he heard the tissue swelling where James had been hit earlier. “Come on.” He took James by his metal hand and pulled him into the bedroom.

For the rest of that evening, all of the ghosts from Matt’s life faded away. No gangs, no crime lords, no childhood bullies entered his thoughts. Instead all of his senses were focused on James – on the ticklish spot on his lower back, just above his ass; on the way his lungs filled with air when Matt reached under the waistband of his boxers; on the way his cock twitched when Matt kissed his inner thigh; on the way he huffed for breath when he came. 

Most of all, Matt couldn’t shake the way James’s heart reacted when Matt said in the small hours of the night, “I could get used to having you in my life.” 

Right before Matt nodded off, he heard James whisper, “I could, too.”

~*~

The next day brought ceaseless paperwork and plenty of conversation at Nelson and Murdock. James fielded Karen and Foggy’s questions – sometimes serious and genuine ( _Were you ever scared fighting the Nazis? Did you get homesick? How are you feeling about everything now? What can we do to help you?_ ), and sometimes completely ridiculous ( _What are your intentions with Matt? How many drinks can you handle before you start falling off your chair? Care to go to Josie’s and prove it? Do you think Steve Rogers would like to have babies with me?_ ) Throughout the hours, countless amounts of forms were filed online and delivered to three different offices, and Matt made an appointment for James to give his story to two federal officers.

The night brought even more socializing as the Avengers threw a small party in James’s honor at the Tower. It only took three drinks before Matt was on a first-name basis with the entire team and found himself shooting Clint’s arrows into some of Tony’s scrap metal lined along a countertop. Money changed hands as Bruce won the bet with Matt missing only one target out of fifteen. 

The federal agents arrived three days later at the office. They recorded while James told his story, Matt sitting on one side and Steve on the other. Natasha spoke as well about what she knew regarding brainwashing and physical experimentation, and Clint spoke about what it was like to be under mind control. As the agents left they shook everyone’s hands and said to Matt and James, “We think we have everything we need. Sergeant Barnes, thank you for your service. We’ll see that your forms are expedited.” 

When the official report arrived stating that no further investigation was required, Matt and James celebrated by waiting until nightfall and taking down most of the Russian crime ring in Hell’s Kitchen. As they stood amidst the fallen foes, James took a moment to pin Matt against a taxi and say Matt’s words back to him: “I could get used to having you in my life.” 

The next time Matt said it back, James had found Matt beaten half to death in a dumpster. Matt heard the metal arm whirring under him as he was lifted upward, his entire body feeling like a raw, exposed nerve. He touched James’s face and said, “I could get used to having you in my life,” before he slipped into unconsciousness. 

Matt said it to James when he held him during the 4th of July fireworks while James trembled during the explosions. They both said it during fights, a gentle way to pull the other from a place of anger. 

The night that Matt took James’s virginity, Matt slid carefully and slowly inside of James, whispering “I could get used to having you in my life.” James replied with a smirk, “I know. Now start moving.” 

When James spent too many nights in a row at Avengers Tower, Matt used it as another way of saying, “please come back. I miss you.” 

James was the first to finally say it after several months, though it had been simmering for quite some time. “I could get used to having you in my life because I’m in love with you.” When Matt confessed to Foggy what James had said, Foggy declared that Matt was “even blinder than I thought. We’ve known that for months.” 

Mostly Matt repeated it to himself because he’d felt his entire life that love was not in the cards for him. With James he could be emotional, indulgent, and undisciplined. Love was his greatest victory.

He could get used to that.


End file.
